


dinner table

by liamnoel



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Liam on his knees, M/M, PWP, Sibling Incest, reuploaded from lj, risky sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:59:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamnoel/pseuds/liamnoel
Summary: Liam needs to work on his manners.1989





	dinner table

**Author's Note:**

> reuploading all my stories to here because livejournal is owned by russia now or something and i'm not taking a chance on that

“Liam, dear, eat your broccoli. You’re not a child.”  
  
Paul is at work. Noel is angry at Liam, which means Liam is angry at Noel, which means Liam’s going to act like he _is_ a child, and Peggy will be the only one talking.  
  
Liam scowls, pushing the offending vegetable around the plate with his fork.  
  
“Have you found a job yet, Noel?”  
  
The older boy gulps down his potatoes and shakes his head. “No, and I’d’ve been just fine till the Carpets need me again in a couple weeks’ time, except for this bastard here–” a disapproving glare from his mother “–he’s bleedin’ me dry, decided it’d be nice to cut my guitar strings, threw my football in a pond, ‘e took my best jacket an’ left it on the train–”  
  
“S’not fuckin’ true, you gone and lost it yourself–”  
  
Peggy sighs and excuses herself to the bathroom.  
  
The younger boy slams his fist on the table once she’s upstairs, moving his face close enough to Noel where he can’t avert his eyes. Liam feels Noel’s breath become markedly shorter and hotter against his lips, but decides to ignore it for the time being.  
  
“I’m not the fuckin’ devil, right, an’ I’m not here goin’ around, fuckin’ you over because I want to– that’s what you do to _me,_ you cunt–”  
  
“Doesn’t matter if you mean to, twat, you’re doing it either way, my point is–” Noel stops abruptly, then, because in an effort to push himself even closer to his brother, Liam has leant forward a bit too much, throwing his hands down to steady himself. One meet’s Noel’s shoulder. The other meets his upper thigh.  
  
Liam watches Noel’s Adam’s apple as he swallows. He thinks about his breath again. He _feels_ his breath again and that’s when he can’t help himself and feels himself exhale so, so close to Noel’s lips and he shifts his hand up just a bit and then he’s rubbing. Slowly, cautiously. Because he knows he’s got a few seconds before Noel comes to his senses – but for those glorious seconds, he’ll get to see him throw his head back and let out a bit of a near-silent groan. Liam loves it. But it’s over all too soon.  
  
“Liam, you fuckin’– get off me, you idiot–” Liam shuts him up with a kiss. Swift bite to the bottom lip and his hand’s in the process of being slapped away but not before he gets a few more strokes over the rough denim and ah, yes, there it is. Noel’s hard now. The younger brother pulls his face back and they breathe together again.  
  
“You never spend the night anymore, y’know. I miss you.” Probably 70% of his intention with these words is manipulation; he wants Noel to forget he’s cross with him. But as Noel’s grip on his wrist loosens and he slides his hand back over his brother’s jeans with minimal interruption, he feels that number dropping rapidly as genuine desire takes over.  
  
Liam’s not quite sure what it is, that. It’s strange. For some reason he’s very nearly turned on by a proper fight with his dickhead of a brother; some of their best fucks have been directly following, or even _during_ , an intense argument. And he knows Noel feels it, too. He doesn’t have to say it out loud. It’s there in the way he doesn’t even try again to stop the fingers gripping at his lap. His head’s returned to its slack position, tilted backwards with his neck exposed. Liam leans in, tracing his ear with the tip of his tongue.  
  
“Fuck… you’d better stop, Mam’ll be back down any minute, Liam…”  
  
Much to Noel’s surprise, the younger boy listens for once, giving a rather hard suck to his earlobe before pulling back, his hand going with him. Noel exhales, and their mother’s light footsteps filter in from the upstairs hallway. She returns to her seat, blissfully unaware.  
  
The remainder of their meal is eaten in relative silence; Noel, red-faced, exchanges about a dozen words with Peggy, and Liam eats his broccoli with the appropriate amount of complaining for a seventeen-year-old (that is, none). Their mother is confused by their strange behaviour; but when is she not?  
  
Eventually the boys are left alone, dirty dishes cleared and Liam’s socked feet tapping out a rhythm on the linoleum. He flicks his heavy-lashed eyes sideways at Noel, and before the older brother even has a chance to open his mouth, Liam’s hand is back on his lap. _Right where it fuckin’ belongs. Cunt._  
  
The kid’s lips are back at his ear, too, as his zipper’s undone. “You like it, Noely? Y’miss me?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” _Just fuckin' get on with it, won't you?_  
  
Breathy laughter, faster strokes. “You’re not even listening, are ya?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Mm. ‘preciate the honesty, I do…”  
  
It’s heavenly but Noel, as the rational, clearheaded thinker he is, interjects– “Hey, hold on, think we should… oh, _fuck,_ Liam, think we sh-should take this upstairs, we can’t–”  
  
“Shu’ up, you fuckin’ bore.” There’s a loud scrape as Liam pushes his chair out. Now he’s on his knees.  
  
“No, y-you idiot, what if–” Noel cuts himself off this time, because fuck safety, he’s lost track of his brother’s mouth and _oh fucking Christ there it is._  
  
A large part of Noel’s brain is telling him that this is wrong; maybe he doesn’t deserve to feel so good. He shouldn’t be indulging these feelings, and soft lips, blue eyes – he really shouldn’t – the unmistakable sounds of a sloppy blowjob, dull nails pressing into his jeans, it’s all too nice. But, no, he shouldn’t be fucking his little brother’s mouth at the dinner table. He shouldn’t.  
  
However, like most of the back-and-forth that goes on inside the elder Gallagher’s head, nothing comes of this commentary. It’s soon replaced by thoughts quite foreign, like _When did he lose the fucking gag reflex, I’d better start staying over some more– no, fuck, when’s Louise out of town next…_  
  
“I’ll stay here tonight, alright?” Noel rubs his thumb idly along Liam’s cheek as he says this, feeling both the slight curve of a smile and a low hum as his brother moves.  
  
This offer clearly pleases Liam. Noel’s getting closer and closer to the edge, trying to stay quiet but failing to keep in a few little gasps and grunts, and when it’s all too much, he pulls on the younger boy’s hair to warn him. Trails of saliva follow Liam’s lips when he pulls off, moving his hand quickly, Noel’s cock pressed right up against his face, eyes fluttering shut when he feels him finish, and Liam’s well and truly smiling now because he knows he’s done a good job.  
  
Of course, as is sometimes the case, he doesn’t let Noel enjoy that ethereal post-orgasm high. “You fucking pervert,” he says immediately, “Is there a room in this fuckin’ house you ‘aven’t come in yet?”  
  
Noel wants to say _Mam and Paul’s rooms, yeah?_ , but holds back when he realizes that still leaves him – them – with four out of six. And _shit,_ that’s seven out of ten if he counts the tiny entryway, their bedroom closet, and the back garden.  
  
He looks down. Liam’s smiling and his eyes are shining and he looks well and truly beautiful.  
  
Noel ruffles his hair one last time before zipping himself back up, pushing his chair out from the table. As he stands, he offers his hand to Liam. “C’mon, get up, now.”  
  
The younger boy takes his hand but doesn’t move. “No, you c’mon, Noely, g’is a–”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not givin’ you a fuckin’ kiss till you wash your face off, you slag.” White residue adorns one of Liam’s cheekbones, the rest of it spread over the palm of his hand.  
  
One second he’s still sitting there on the linoleum, still staring, and the next he’s lunged up, kissing Noel on the cheek and bounding up the stairs to the toilet before Noel can react at all.  
  
There’s nothing on his own face, thank God. Well– _not God,_ Noel thinks, _he’s fuckin’ given up on the both of us by now._ _We’re halfway to hell._ But even then, they’d be together, wouldn’t they?  
  
( _Fuck off,_ Liam had said once, when Noel told him what they had was wrong. _We do plenty wrong every bleedin’ day, man._ Noel had agreed, yes, that’s true, but– _But nothin’! I don’t– I jus’ don’t care much at all, Noely. S’long as I fuckin’ got you._ )  
  
Noel can hear the sink running upstairs, backed with Liam’s faithful rendition of “I Am the Resurrection”, and it makes him smile. _G’won then, God. Take us to hell. We’re waiting_. He’s still smiling as he clears the dishes from the table, and he finds he just doesn’t care much at all.


End file.
